


She's Every Woman

by captainamergirl



Category: Passions (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pretty dances wildly and Noah mistakes her for Fancy (oops!), crack ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainamergirl/pseuds/captainamergirl
Summary: "She's sun and rain, she's fire and iceA little crazy but it's niceAnd when she gets mad, you best leave her alone'Cause she'll rage just like a riverThen she'll beg you to forgive herShe's every woman that I've ever known"Or in which, Noah gets to know Pretty a little better.





	She's Every Woman

**Author's Note:**

> A Noah Bennett and Pretty Crane short story, in both of their POVs. The next part should be up very soon. I've just have had this idea for awhile and decided to run with it.

**PRETTY**  
  
Did I ever mention that I hate, hate, _HATE_ my sister? Here she is walking - no dancing, actually - around the mansion, telling everyone how great she feels that she and Luis are finally tying the proverbial knot. Although I must say for Luis, he’s really tying a noose around his neck and he doesn’t even know it, the dumb stupid ox.  
  
 _“Share in my joy!”_ Fancy seems to be saying. But to me, she might as well be saying, _“Ha ha, Pretty, you lose again!”_  
  
The wedding is just two days away. Two days and Fancy will have that unbelievably hot and sexy Latin man all to herself. I won’t have him, or a baby, or anyone or anything to call my own. I would cry if I knew how to, but I stopped doing that a long time ago. A long time after I realized that no body gave a damn if I was hurting. I may be named “Pretty” but its Fancy that’s the pretty one, the sweet one, the smart one, the loved one.  
  
 _Blah! What a bitch!_ I wish she would just choke on her big fat ego.  
  
I have been up in my room feeling depressed (or “pouting”, as my wonderful mother puts it) for most of the last week as the wedding from hell gets closer and closer. I can hear all the wedding drama unfolding downstairs though even when I put in my earplugs. Esme has hired a team of male strippers for tonight to dance for Fancy and her loser friends. Is it too much for me to hope that Fancy falls in love with one of the buff machismos and runs away with him? That way I can have Luis all to myself.  
  
 _Ain’t gonna happen, Prettttty,_ Fancy says from my shoulder. She’s the little devil on my shoulder that no one sees. If I do bad things, it’s because she forced me to!  
  
 _Luis loves me, me, me, me, and you are going to end up alone and miserable with those nasty scars as your only company!_ She taunts me.  
  
I smack my shoulder really hard - hard enough to make myself yelp in pain and then determinedly get up from the bed and grab my purse off the table. I’m going out. I am not going to endure this wedding mania any longer. I cannot stand being under the same roof as my bitch of a sister who has ruined my life and continues to do so!  
  
XoXoXo  
  
 **NOAH**  
  
I have lost everything. I have lost every last thing. Paloma is with Roberto now and Fancy - probably the love of my life - is getting married in two days to Luis. Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald who is some kind of god around here. He must be considering the way women throw themselves at his feet and beg for him to love them. Fancy is just the latest in a string of hopeless women after his heart. She doesn’t seem to realize that eventually Luis and Sheridan are going to get back together like they always do and leave her out in the cold.  
  
I expect then she’ll come running to me like she always does when she’s hurt but next time I will just say, _“no, no, Fancy, go away.”_  
  
Yeah right. I could never resist those big blue eyes when they’re filled with tears.  
  
Yet for my sake, I hope she does stay happily married to Luis and they can overcome Alistair Crane’s evil legacy so maybe I can move on.  
 _  
Someday._  
  
I am walking in the park tonight and see a few couples sitting in the moonlight caressing and kissing each other. It almost turns my stomach. What’s that song? “1 is the loneliest number …”  
  
Whoever sung that was right.  
  
“Okay, Noah, no more feeling bad for yourself, “ I say determinedly. “Do what every man does when he’s depressed. Go get shit-faced drunk!“  
  
XoXoXo  
  
 **PRETTY**  
  
I walk into a crappy little bar on the south side of Harmony and almost cringe as I catch a whiff of some really bad body odor and stale cigarette smoke. This is normally the very last place in the world I would ever visit, but all the major clubs in this Podunk town have either burned to the ground or been washed away in some supernatural-like disaster. From what I gather, this town has had more freak floods, earthquakes, tsunamis, and whatever else than any other town on the planet.  
  
Ah, who cares. I came here to kick up my heels.  
  
Doesn’t look like there is anyone worth doing that with, but oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. I go up to the bar and the bartender eyes me carefully, lustfully. I am tempted to pull back my hair and show him my scars so he’ll freak out like all other men do and he’ll stop undressing me with his eyes but decide against it. I might as well feel desired by someone - even if it is a three-hundred-pound men with a seeping sore on his nose and the most horrible smell hanging to his dirty, sweat-stained clothes.  
  
“Hey, Sugar, what can I get ya?” he asks, leering at me.  
  
“Cosmo, please,” I say, trying to resist puking in his face.  
  
“Sorry, babe, we don’t serve those womanly, foofy drinks in this place.”  
  
I consider slapping him for that response. I mean, what self-respecting bar doesn’t serve Cosmos?  
  
“Wine spritzer then?” I say.  
  
“Beer, beer, or imported beer,” he says, smiling at me so I can see a mouth full of missing teeth.  
  
I roll my eyes. “Imported, I guess,” I answer, watching carefully as he pours me the drink so I can be sure he doesn’t slip something into it. He looks just like the type to pull something like that.  
  
He hands me the beer and I slap down a five dollar bill on the bar and walk away. I notice I’m the only female of discernable nature - unless you count those _shemales_ in the corner. Everyone is staring at me expectantly and I sigh and then shout, “Oh what the hell? Drinks on me!”  
  
A whoop goes up from the crowd and everyone heads towards the bar save for a few guys who smell like my father’s fish factory. “Want to dance, babe?” One asks.  
  
Under normal circumstances, I would say _“HELL FREAKING NO!”_ but these are not normal circumstances. I feel impotent and weak to stop my sister from destroying my life. Plus, I resolved to have some fun so these three losers can at least entertain me for awhile. I look forward to seeing them _attempt_ to dance.  
  
They lift me up onto the counter and I start strutting my stuff. There are a ton of catcalls and hoots and hollers and I almost find myself having a good time until I hear the name I never want to hear again and it’s addressed right to my back. "Fancy - is that you?”  
  
I spin around, fuming, and see its Fancy’s loser ex, Noah Bennett. He looks even more pathetic than the rest of the people here. He may be good looking in a boyish sort of way but the pathetic, woe-is-me look in his eyes is so annoying. “Its Pretty, _bitch!_ Get it right! If you’re looking for Princess Fancy, she’s on top of the world and you’re stuck here with the rest of inhumanity.”  
  
I immediately turn around and go back to dancing my heart out though I can feel his eyes searing into my back the whole time.  
  
TBC.


End file.
